What Problem? II Don't 2ee a Problem
by QuisTu Canada
Summary: Sollux and Karkat both have problems. Sollux's problem is OCD- he's always done everything in pairs. Karkat's problem is Sollux. Mostly.   Humanstuck, Karkat&Sollux friendship, probable Karkat/Sollux, OCD!2ollux, Dave/John
1. 2ollux Captor i2 a 2enior

Sollux's POV

I knew it was going to be a bad day when I was able to open my locker on the first try. I've had the same shitty locker for the past four years, and I've always had to put the correct combination in twice before it opens. I've noticed that any other number signifies the day's looming god-awfulness. I try to fix it by closing my locker and trying it again, and even though it still opens on the first combination entry, I quit while I'm ahead. I put all of the homework I did last night into my locker, then proceed to take everything I'd need for the first two periods.

I see my best friend Karkat in most of my classes this year. I have double-block math class first period, and only Karkat and I, along with perhaps three other people are in that class. The class was made when they realized that a lot of kids, especially those who had good enough grades to take both Algebra and Geometry in middle school, didn't take Freshman math when they were supposed to since it was put into a block math with Geometry. Then I go to AP Latin, then eat out of a study hall, which doesn't even really count as a class, actually. Then after noon I take Drawing and Painting and lastly British Literature.

Our school had major budget cuts about two years back, and now only has six periods in the day instead of seven, so even though I only needed an art class to graduate, I still didn't have enough space for the double-block sciences course and double-block math I wanted. Block days are gone, too, which makes lesson plans the teachers have pretty inefficient, since all of their projects were created around having twice as long in class for one day a week. All the better for Karkat and I.

Karkat's been pretty stand-offish lately, actually. More than nomal, even. He's usually a pretty angry guy, but the only time I ever get worried that I've really done something wrong are the times like these past couple of weeks when hasn't yelled at me at _all_. I think he might still be mad at me because this summer, by the time I convinced him that he didn't have to follow me to study hall and made him sign up for the computer science class he wanted to take, it was already too crowded.

Well, actually, I guess it's kind of selfish to just assume it's me he's having problems with. He usually has pretty dark bags under his eyes since, as his dad likes to point out, his family has pretty strong Greek blood in them. Lately, though, I've noticed his eyes are pretty blood-shot, and I'm worried that he's slipping back into his habit of not sleeping. It wouldn't worry me as much if I didn't know why he does it. He worries about things more than all of his other friends realize. Karkat worries about everything from how he acted towards someone that morning to things as serious as they are implausible. I know he worries about his dad suddenly dying or losing his job, about being homeless or getting really sick all of a sudden. He garners those thoughts with more attention than he should.

You get through the day being thoroughly ignored by the only person you enjoy talking to all day, and without being bullied by Eridan and his ensemble of hipsters. The thought of Karkat at his house worrying and raging to the point of not even being able to function would be funny if it weren't so depressingly pathetic. So with worry of your own, you go home and, after counting things in your apartment in pairs of two for a while to calm yourself down, you decide to give Karkat a call.

After a shower.


	2. A WHOLE BUNCH OF FUCKING NOTHING

Edit 10/31/11: Went back and fixed problem with slipping into the second person in both the first and second chapters. Whoops.

Karkat's POV

I am KARKAT VANTAS, and the friend I talk to the most is also the most ultimately fucked up person on the face of the Earth. Not only does he have to brush his teeth twice and and take twice as long to open his locker (the dipshit sometimes closes it just to unlock it again), he doesn't even realize just how OCD he is. One time my dad let him into the house because I was still eating, and when I asked him to get some stupid milk out of the fridge, he pours a glass of it, but after I finished he snatched the stupid glass out of my hand and refilled it a _second _time. I blow up on him about it whenever he pushes his shitty pairs thing on me, but I know he kinda can't help it. Even knowing he can't fix whatever the fucking problem is, it still pisses me off. I've been dragged into grocery shopping with him and his dad during a sleep over. Well, not really dragged, because I was curious as to how Sollux eats things like stew or cakes or whatever the fuck it is you can't really split into two and eat. He can't eat that much, he's fairly fit for, you know, not ever working out. Halfway through check-out, I realized that not only did Sollux's dad only take things like CHICKEN NUGGETS and SHITTY BATTERWITCH VACUUM SEALED CAKES and other foods that can easily be split into two equal pieces, but he got two of everything he put in the cart. Except a skillet that he apparently needed, but had spent an extra half hour looking for one in particular, sending us off to go cause some kind of prepubescent boy mischief. I had seen it, the stupid thing was ugly as hell and two different colors, partitioned in equal parts right down the fucking center.

That was the start of an understanding between Sollux's dad and I. We both knew he had a problem, but he saw no reason to fix it, and since he was the dad I couldn't do anything about it even if I wanted to. I didn't really care back then since, even if that stupid quirk of his annoyed the fuck out of me, it didn't seem to have an effect on his satisfaction in life. Now I do care, because now it is conflicting with his life, whether his dad sees it or not.

His dad takes care of him well, usually, and makes sure all of his weird demands are met at home. Actually, the only time he ever gets angry at Sollux is when he isn't doing well in school, but the only time Sollux hasn't, the asshole went absolutely _ballistic_. I thought _I_ could whip up a hissy fit, but damn that was frightening. I'll never forget it. I guess he doesn't care how he gets the schoolwork done, either, because Sollux sure isn't doing it right. He always has straight A's, sure, but that's probably because he does every goddamn assignment _twice_.

Sollux has not once in the entire time I've known him turned in _just_ a single piece of homework. It's always two separate but identical papers, stapled twice (If it has any mistakes, it's always two, and it irritates me to think he got that second one wrong on purpose) and that's what the main problem is now. Most teachers are okay with that, but at times he gets reprimanded for it by a teacher who either doesn't care that his dad sent notice at the beginning of the year warning about his OCD, or has just had a bad day. Either way, Sollux always gets pretty fucking torn up about it, and eventually, and with a little persuasion (which I'm not the best at- I've had more detentions for back-talking than I can remember for it) the jackasses usually come around and change any grades they've mucked up for his 'disrespectful behavior'.

But that won't be the case once he gets out into the real world. This is a problem that, most likely, can be fixed, at least partially. Since Sollux's dad doesn't see any visible change in his grades, though, he doesn't care that Sollux won't be able to make it through college turning in two thirty-paged essays; doesn't care that he would be fired on the spot for refusing to admit anything is wrong with turning in a two page report with size six type 'because otherwise it would've been three or four pages long'.

Sollux needs help, but the fact that it both _has_ to be and _can't_ be me makes it impossible to even lay in bed most nights, usually not ever even attempting to get to sleep. I hear the phone ring while I'm in the kitchen doing a whole lot of absolutely fucking nothing, and I go to pick it up.


	3. The 2horte2t Phonecall ever

Chapter 3- **The phone converthathion**

I'm sorry this chapter's so short, this is the first conversation I've written out in two years, sorry for grammatical slaughtering not brought on by Sollux's adorable lisp. ( I don't know, if someone reading this says something about not being able to read Sollux, I'll try to change it to something more understandable.) 

Sollux's PoV

Your body can't decide between being flooded with relief or melting in nervousness when Karkat finally picks up the phone.

"**Hello**?"

"Yeah, Karkat? It'th me. I-I was just wondering..." Jesus, you should have maybe thought out what to say first.

"**What do you want, Thollux? Thhhpit it out already." **

You can hear him wiping the spit off of his phone, it's so quiet. God, you can't decide whether him making fun of you is a bad thing or not. Think, Sollux, what _do_ you want?

"Well II wath jutht thinkiing how it'th kind of been a while sinthe we hung out with Dave and John. II wath wonderiing if maybe you would come with uth if II athked them to go thomewhere?" You nearly cringe when your lisp pretty much mangles everything you say, as always. You start to wonder if Karkat even understands what you say most of the time, or if he just gripes about general things and then gets more specific when he manages to pick out bits and pieces of what you say.

Jesus Christ, Karkat, say something.

"Karkat?"

"**...Whatever ****fine****.**" You hear right before a click.

You let out a gigantic breath, even though you're not really relieved about anything since Karkat is still being standoffish and you really hope that if you can't help him through whatever it is, that maybe John can. You go through the undertaking of just tidying up and getting ready to go to sleep, taking even longer than normal. As you turn out the light and your head hits the pillow, the last thought of the day is a vague wondering, a wish, maybe, that Karkat's safe at home and already asleep. Well, that and the hope that you can get your Brit. Lit. done in study hall tomorrow.


	4. karkat gets his jimmies rustled

Chapter 4

Sollux's PoV

* * *

><p>After a whole days worth of hesitation and a lengthy chat at lunch with John (accompanied by wholeheartedly disinterested coolkid comments) which turns into a long memo conversation with the two, you finally settle on a place to go.<p>

Which is to say, you were going to let John drive all four of you around until you found someplace that wasn't a movie theater (John generally never agrees to see the same movie as everybody else) a park (Dave is 'too cool to sit and sweat on a park bench what the fuck are you even thinking egbert') or an amusement park (Nobody you know except Karkat can stomach some of the rides, even Dave. You think some of them might be reminiscent of Medieval torture devices) and hope you don't all spend the _entire_ evening in the car.

And that was how you sat awkwardly on your curb with the coolkid, who happens to live not even a mile away. It wouldn't have actually been so awkward if it weren't for the fact that he had his face turned to make it look like he was gazing straight at your face. You figure that, like most other times, he isn't actually staring at your face, but actually in almost the exact opposite direction, like John told you he had a habit of doing.

Or at least, that's what you thought he was doing until he spoke up.

"What's eating you, Skinny?" he says in a way that just oozes the aura of not actually caring.

You jump anyway. "Mothquitoeth and gnatth, whatth eatiing you?"

This must have been the right answer for him because he lets out what might as well have been a snort and turned his head towards the other direction.

Looking over to see what he's looking at, you thank the gods it's John in his dad's perfectly maintained FAMILY-FRIENDLY VEHICLE.

You throw open the door to the back seat and jump in before John even has time to completely stop the car. You then realize while watching Dave slowly slink over to the _passenger's seat _that, by process of elimination, you're sitting next to Karkat.

As you try your hardest not to look at him, or really anything minus the back of John's seat , John and Dave are having a light, probably mundane conversation in the front seat. There's shitty calliope music John probably put on without thinking about filtering lightly through the speakers until Dave mercifully switches it with something he probably thought wasn't just a shitty. He was wrong.

You finally fail in your task of not looking at Karkat, and nearly bite your tongue off trying not to squeak embarrassingly at the sheer sight of him. He looks like he hasn't eaten or probably even closed his eyes to _blink_ in days. You feel horrible for not setting up... Well, whatever this is going to turn out to be, sooner.

As if he felt your eyes burning into the side of your face, Karkat's head snaps up and he stares at you with a slightly paranoid look on his face.

"**What are you fucking staring at?**" His voice managed to come out with more scratch and grit than normal.

"Oh, you know, jutht the abtholute meth thiitting iin the theat bethiide me. The meth that jutht happenth two be my betht friiend." That came out sounding way harsher than it should have. Probably sounded way more garbled than it should have, too, but goddamn it Karkat is your best friend and he hasn't talked to you in what feels like _forever_, so you feel like you have the right to be a little mad.

"**Well thanks for that, Thollux. Should have known you wouldn't have anything remotely intelligent to say. I would have even settled for something that didn't contain enough 'S's to form a goddamn lake in John's car that was big enough to fucking swim in.**"

"Hey! Guuuuuuuuys, no fighting in the car! Seriously, if I have to pull over and let Dave take the wheel to get back there and FriendLead, nobody's getting out of this car a happy camper, if we all even survive!" You could just hear all eight of the 'U's in that word, even through the massive pout John had going on. He then cringes and looks at Dave, shooting him a look that just simpers 'No offense you can't be mad at me because you are a Strider and being mad isn't something those can do to Egberts'.

"**Fine! Damn you schlong-sucking idiot, don't fucking cry about it.**" You almost crack a smile when you hear Karkat's cursing rise above the sub-par it's been since he started ignoring you.

The rest of the ride, after Karkat and John quiet down, however, is morbidly silent.

Silent except for the occasional 'How about there?' 'Fuck no that place _.' and you're pretty sure by the fourth time John speaks up, Dave and Karkat had silently agreed to start messing with John, saying things like 'Jesus no that place has semen in all of the deep fryers.', getting more ridiculous as time crept forward.

After an amazing amount of wasted time, and even after passing over it twice before you said something about it, you all finally agree that stopping at the International House of motherfucking Pancakes was just about the smartest thing anyone had said in hours.

* * *

><p>Maybe someday my conversations will look like something actual people might actually say. Also, I read back over my work once every two days until I either stop finding typos or until I literally can't read it even one more time without getting a headache. Next Chapter in a few days. Along with more of JohnDave that I decided I'm not done with. I'm going to try to be creative without falling flat on my face, everybody stand back.

Also, once this story is finished, I'm going to connect the shorter chapters together wherever I can to make it less agonizing to read. I'm also going to maybe start posting other stories, but my code that I'm going to try to live by is that for every new story, I have to have two chapters of whatever isn't finished ready to go. This way, if I start too many new stories, I either shamefully have to break my own code, or have a lot of new chapters or finished stories.


	5. LET'S FINALLY GET OUT OF EGBERT'S CAR

I'm so sorry about Dave. I can't write an ironic character for the life of me, so I'm just going to write him out pretty much the same way I act around my hipster-ish friends. Also, I wrote most of this while feeling colloquially like shit. If that's even the right word. Fuck Fuck Fuckitty Fuck Fuck- _Oh look I'm Karkat. _Actually, a lot of this chapter is just him thought-ranting. But I love his thought-rants, I'm good at them. I actually make a pretty good Karkat, being a pessimist and all.

I'm posting this about A really long fucking period of just sitting and being a waste of space past the time I allotted myself to get this chapter done. '^'** Just be glad I didn't die. That's a legitimate concern in my small family. ;u;**

Karkat's PoV

The smell of slightly burnt pancakes and broken wails of small children decidedly not getting to play the skill crane assault your senses as you walk through the doors of the restaurant. You're pretty sure places like this only put those machines in to exploit to the disheartened simpers of little kids to make money, and you don't know whether to be angry that you have to listen to that shit or respectful of the sheer genius of it all.

You've been messing with the windy boy the whole time in the car, and you're most certainly not going to stop now. You're pretty sure if you or Dave stopped messing with John, the awkward feeling of the situation would be magnified by about a thousand.

"How about it, son? Would you like me to win you one of those fine stuffed companions?" Dave puts a decidedly ironic and fatherly hand on John's shoulder.

John just giggles and brushes off Dave's hand, "Wow! really, pop? That would be swell!" He runs toward the brightest-flashing machine and makes a squawking rendition of a kid in a candy store.

"Geez, Egbert, get your face off the glass. I would almost think you were catching on to the irony game if only you didn't look like a puppy that had to go to the bathroom. Seriously, no telling how many grimy kid mugs have been slobbering all over that." Dave tries to pry him off, but John just whines and flails an arm at him.

You see him suddenly get an absolutely enthralled look on his face, turning red from pressing it so forcefully into the display. "Dave, Daaaaaaaave, look! Dave, is that you?"

You look at what he's pointing to, and try to physically stop yourself from laughing. You fail. Nestled between a teal dinosaur and a grotesque parody of a green cat, you see a red penguin in aviators and a t-shirt. After a couple of staccato seconds of not being completely certain as to the location of your shit, You open your mouth to yell at John to hurry up with his stupid cuddlyfuck plush thing so you could all sit down. The words die in your throat when you hear Sollux laugh for the first time in a week as John pushes it up against his bi-colored sunglasses with a 'holy shit look feel how soft this actually is!' and a definitely bland look from the coolkid.

After that, a disgruntled waitress leads you to a sunny booth to the side of the restaurant where Dave immediately asks for a kid's menu and all the colors of crayons they have.

"Awww fuck _yes_ look at this Western cowboy rodeo bullshit, John. When I'm done with it I'll turn it loose to have it stumble through life wondering why it looks like a gay pride parade that took a wrong turn into Texas."

"You mean liike you, Thtriider?" Sollux sniggered. You cringe as he gets an arm covered in strawberry syrup courtesy of Strider, which leads to the sugar packet battle of 2k11.

Which is about when the waitress sidled up, looking on the fence between _really_ not wanting to wait our table and wanting to sit with the coolkid. She had spider bites and more colors in her hair than a fucking rainbow, so you could understand why she'd be wondering why someone like Strider was hanging out with these to fuckasses. Well, there was also you, of course, but you're not about to lump yourself in with the dorks in glasses.

Those three aforementioned assholes stop throwing things like idiots long enough to notice the girl and order. We all almost stop laughing at Dave coercing the waitress into letting him order thirteen orders of smiley hashed browns and four pancakes- insisting he was going to be a good boy and eat them all- in time for the bus-boy to come over to try in vain to wipe off the syrup.

"Look, Thorry, man. Iit'th my fault. Ii Thtarted-" Sollux tried to mangle out an apology.

Of course, the guy wasn't going to take any lisp from an guy in bifuricated shades,"Oh fuck no, I'm going to get the manager, and if I come back and you're still here, she's gonna kick you out herself." He huffs off- in search of his manager, presumably.

"Well, brohonchos, looks like we're going to have to take this pride parade somewhere else." You really hope this asshole has a fucking plan this time.

"**Well this outing worked out real fucking well. You all managed to spend more time in John's stupid metal death trap than the actual eatery**."

"You mean the restaurant? _Hee hee _Gee, Karkat, you sure have some antiquated vernacular!"

"**Shut up John, they're the same fucking thing and you know it**." You sigh, and it nearly comes out as a growl. Or maybe it did, by the way Egbert is laughing at you. Plus, what's with 'Antiquated vernacular'? That's a piece out of the roaring twenties in itself!

You're absolutely _seething_. Not only do you have to subject yourself to more of Dave and John's contrite word vomit, but now Sollux looks miserably constipated with anguishing guilt. Good, he fucking picked the place out... He looks absolutely fucking pitiful, though.

Luckily, Dave motherfucking Strider chooses that moment to save this situation from plunging further into the Land of Mishaps and Raucous Yelling.

"Calm down kiddies. Wipe your snot-slathered face and pick your asses off the ground, because we're haulin' 'em to that Chuck 'E' Cheeses over there." The faked cowboy accent he puts on over his actual southern drawl is absolutely insufferable, but it makes John laugh until it degrades into snortling like a retard. Go figure.

~~~~~ Assume nothing happened on the way to Chuck'e'Cheeses~~~~~~~~~

You all get settled down in the shit-stain that's recalled fondly as the House of Chuck. You remember one birthday here ending in your cranky, inept father getting forcefully thrown out by the big mouse himself, along with you and about three flasks worth of malt liquor. That wasn't even your birthday party.

Sollux must have been remembering that time, too- it was his party, after all, and his can't help but sneak a glance at you and laugh. You see him lean over and whisper to John before he busts out in those stupid little snorts he has. Asshole.

"Really, Karkat? I knew your dad was kind of absent-minded, but at a _kid's birthday party_?" John can't contain a little snicker now and then whenever he looks in your direction.

"**Shut **_**up**_**, Egbert! At least my dad doesn't bring a thousand tiny batter-witch confectionery **_**pure-slurried poisons**_** to birthday parties.**"

"Geez, it was that _one_ time, Karkat!" John tries valiantly to defend his father, but falls short. K-rist, does he _ever_ stop pouting? How does he even have an overbite with that bottom-lip shelf he sports all the time?

You all settle down and order without mishap this time. Immediately afterwards, Dave excitedly drags John off to go get tokens, babbling 'ironically' like a toddler who hasn't ever even been to a place as miraculous as this. Or whatever the fuck Strider thinks he's doing that's adhering to some unwritten coolkid code.

You're left with just yourself when Sollux follows them after seeing that, against all odds, there's a couple dusty arcade machines that aren't absolute shit. You're pretty sure you got so bored with your own thoughts that you fall asleep, which explains why you face hurts when the stupid waitress shows up with your drinks, giving you a sneer that you return ten-fold.

As she's leaving, Sollux fast-saunters up with about a million fucking tickets and a worried expression.

"**Either you managed to find a way to hack one of these two bit machines, or that waitress needs to be fucking fired.**" You decide to try really hard to ignore his worried expression. Whatever it is, it's probably really stupid.

"Karkat, for one thiing, you have red markth on your fathe from nappiing tho long, and thecondly, even Ii can triick a thtupiid arcade mathine. Ii can't fiind John or Dave anywhere. Ii mothtly jutht wanted two alert you and make you really paranoiid about where they went, but Ii altho wanted to get you two help me fiind them." Jesus, you're pretty sure he's trying to tell you something about the pizza. But no, really? John and Dave are the two stupidest people to worry about.

You try to tell him that, but instead he pulls you by a hand made prematurely sweaty by arcade machines and probably unwonted nerves raging about idiotically for no foreseen reason.

You pull your hand away, and start walking ahead of him until you both stop in front of a miniature crowd of kids with a dusting of disgruntled parents. You see Sollux go and talk to some kids before getting a look on his face that would be absolutely hilarious if it didn't look like he was about to piss his pants.

"Hey! Dammit, Sollux!" You don't get to finish your indignant scream because he's too busy jumping over kids to get into the stupid twisty plastic deathtrap people only know to be in these hellholes and McDonalds. You almost wished you knew what the name of these stupid things were as you run through most of the place to find where it let out.

You arrive to see Sollux falling through the flap on his ass and once again tugging your arm in the exact fucking direction you came from. Almost getting to open your mouth to say something this time, you fall short of forming an eloquent sentence of your own volition this time as you see what your jerk of a friend's pointing to.

Through the fogged up inch-thick plastic window of that God-forsaken haven of childhood mishap, you see Dave sucking face with your best palhoncho. You proceed to flip shit until you get a startlingly accurate rendition of Sollux's sixth birthday, all four of you being thrown out of an establishment for the second time that day, but this time by a big mouse _and_ three angry security officers. Dave even had a flask to whip out to complete the nostalgia.

* * *

><p>Oh, Oh one <em>more<em> thing! Somebody asked if John was friends with Vriska. Yes, yes he is. I'll probably go more in-depth with their friendship in Good Frindleader Best Workaholic, as it IS a tag-along piece I'll most likely decide to tack in when that one and this one catch up to each other.

I'm also un-beta'd so if anybody found a typo, PLEASE tell me about it. I go back and re-read whatever I post the next day (and a couple other times ./.) but I'm sure I miss plenty.


	6. Fiinally 2ome 2chool iin thii2 2chool AU

(2)Apparently hoodiie iithn't a word. Neiither ith zippie. :\ For everythiing that thpell check triieth to correct, thiith iith not one of thothe thiingth Ii exthpected.

Seriously I have never seen so many red squiggles in my life Jegus Krisp. I think it's causing writer's block just looking at it. Either that or I'm having an aneurysm.

Sollux's PoV

It's Friday now, but John and Dave were awkward the whole week at lunch. We all kind of skirted around the elephant in the room as much as possible, although I can tell they're always holding hands under the table since their shoulders are pretty much congealed into each other. Today Dave is rambling at John about the 'sick beats' he made in Radio while the boy just nods his head. I can't tell whether he's genuinely enraptured or just being a good... Boyfriend, would he be? I have no fucking idea at this point, and I'm not about to ask.

The bell rings again signaling the end of C lunch and Dave and I move the ten feet back to the grotesquely tiny Cafeteria annex where about forty of us are kind of crammed in for study hall. John, however, dashes down the hall to his AP Calc room to make sure his teacher knows that he's at the exact same place he goes every fucking day during his 4D study hall. When he gets back I get up to give him my seat next to Dave and start to head towards the exact opposite side of the room, much to the large-toothed boy's chagrin.

"Hey, Sollux, where are you going?" The windy boy shouts. You turn around to see that buck-toothed frown and a disgruntled look on Dave's face that you know means that he wants you to keep walking.

"Thorry, John, Iit'th jutht that Ii thought you miight want thome thpace iin thiith already cramped hellhole to attempt and faiil two get your homework done whiile Thtriider attemptth thloppy makeoutth." You deadpan in the best way and you _almost_ think that you see Strider throw his mask down his own jpeg-artifacted 'stares' for a second to once again smirk at your speech impediment.

John's entire face is now about the same color as Dave's zippered, hooded cotton-based clothing article(2). "_Sollux_, that's not fair! Dave knows I have work to do," He pauses, the blush spreading down his neck because Strider is definitely smirking now, "and that's_ not_ proper school conduct, anyway!"

You can't keep in a snicker yourself "Well, John, Ii have my own work two do, two. Ii have exactly twenty-two miinuteth now to put the fiinal toucheth of a DP project thatth due next periiod and Ii can't even fiit iit on the table wiith all of your thiit iin my way." Since he looks decently placated you turn around and move to the only table that only has one other person sitting at it.

* * *

><p><em>-Nothing else happens Okay Study Hall Is Over and Now it's Sixth Period Brit Lit-<em>

* * *

><p>We hand in our study guides for chapter eight of whatever-book-I'm-not-paying-any-attention-to. To any deity listening in on my thoughts, I hate Brit Lit. I hate reading literature period. I wanted to take Intermediate Comp but apparently those classes were full, which is bullshit. I almost went into Advanced Comp, but that's way too much writing. I'm not that creative anyway.<p>

Mr. Restre gives John and I the dirtiest looks, even though we don't talk until he's done with the lesson. Well, actually it's usually me his looks are for. Maybe he thinks I'll somehow rub my speech impediment on his star student. He's a pretty dour guy but boy he sure likes John. Who doesn't, though?

After Mr. Restre's done rambling on about whatever it is he was talking about, he assigns an essay on the most famous British romantics and I realize that I was supposed to have been taking notes the entire time.

I proceed to copy them from John while he's working on what looks kind of like Physics, but even if I was taking a science course this year the stuff he's blowing through would still look like math to me.

The bell signals the end of the day and everybody rushes out of the room, including John. Journalism meetings out the ass for that poor kid. He says staying busy makes him happy, but what about this new whatever with Dave? You hope Spiderbitch steps in and knocks some sense into him, because Dave sure as fuck isn't. He's always been gun-ho to follow John wherever he went, but he's never been that good at feeling jams. Asking for things. Two things he and Karkat have in common.

I don't extrapolate much on that thought because_ hey_ there's Karkat leaning on my locker with an incredibly ornery expression on his ugly mug. He doesn't say anything as he steps out of the way to let me try twice to open my locker to get the stuff I need, but he doesn't leave, either. I'm pretty glad for that because the only thing the outing on Saturday accomplished was to make him stop talking to John, too. I'm glad anyway, until he starts tugging insistently on my shirt sleeve. That and the fact that once we get outside and down the sidewalk to a secluded spot, his face distorts from extremely grumpy to still angry but anguished face and I'm pretty sure he's about six seconds from crying.

He doesn't say anything still, though, and that's what worries me. I lead him with a hopefully comforting hand to his back to my car since he was always too afraid to get his driver's license, and even though he doesn't have any of his books, he slides into the passenger seat anyway. He usually gets rides from his dad but John said yesterday that he passed him legging it home when he was just driving back from a late club meeting.

Karkat starts crying on the way home and kicks open my glove box to get the tissues he knows are there because they've been there forever because he put them there when I got the car because I've had allergies since I was little and_ Demons Below _I just almost rammed my car into an old lady in a mini-van because Karkat is the one person that cries even less often than John does.

I pull into his driveway and pull him into his own house, using the key taped to the backside of the outside air conditioning unit that stands vigil next to the front door. I set him down at his kitchen table and I'm actually horrified at how _hard_ it was to guide him to the kitchen in the first place. The floor isn't exactly dirty, but _messy_ because there's a bunch of common Karkat items strewn around the floor: Magazines, blankets out the ass, assorted bad movies and _yes_, there is some food-related refuse but _goddamn_ you've never seen any place that's been inhabited by Karkat for any length of time_ look this way_.

As I wait for him to calm down and hopefully tell me what the hell is going on, I buzz around putting assorted things back in assigned places and amass not even a full bag of trash. I take it out anyway, and as I walk back through the door I see Karkat staring at me with a broken look that's still damp and the first words out of his mouth since he started being stand-offish months ago hits me in the face like Eridan in eighth grade at the jungle gym behind Feferi's house and then he's crying again and all I can do is hug him and call in reinforcements and a ride to the hospital that his dad was taken to when Karkat came home from school Monday to find him face-down on the floor.

* * *

><p>I have no idea where that came from, but I almost feel clever. :|<p>

Also, in the beginning of the chapter, Dave talks about Radio and Sollux talks about 'DP' which is Drawing and Painting I. I wrote out a schedule for all of them, and it's posted on my profile. (It's a link to deviantART, but that's because it would have cluttered up my profile otherwise.) You don't have to look at it, it's mostly just to make sure I keep their classes straight.


End file.
